


Crossing the Threshold

by ShadowWolf421



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sex, Paranormal Romance, old house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowWolf421/pseuds/ShadowWolf421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline has a great job assessing old houses for her company. Little did she know this latest job would change her life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing the Threshold

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a submission for an open call for a Paranormal Romance anthology. I didn't get to finish in time, but wanted to still share it :)

 

 

Aveline’s Jeep Wrangler screeched to a halt. The old, rusty wrought iron gate was chained shut, blocking her entrance to the property. Sighing, she slammed the driver’s side door shut and took a closer look. Ivy had grown wantonly, entangling both gate and chain into one foreboding mess.

 

 

“Hmph. Won’t deter me that easily,” she said mockingly to the gate, pulling out a pair of bolt cutters from the back of the vehicle. She cleared away the ivy to see her task better, revealing a “KEEP OUT” sign. Aveline shook her head and smiled. If only she had a dime for every one of these she came across… Her mind drifted as she successfully severed the chain and forcefully kicked the gate open.

 

As Asset and Property Assessor for Buchanan Realites, her job was simple: Get in, evaluate the property, and turn in her report. Her job sent her all over the deep south, and she loved the nomadic lifestyle. She was content to be back in her home state of Louisiana for now.

The manor itself was an old antebellum mansion made from the indigenous cypress trees. Four Corinthian columns graced the front of the house, standing like silent sentinels to thwart anyone with ill intent.  Aveline was sure this place had to be a close cousin to Nottoway, as it favored the famous plantation mansion. Kirkwood Manor was significantly smaller. Its former owner had a massive heart attack while on business  in New Orleans, and stipulation of his will dictated the property be sold. The estate had to be appraised first. That’s where Aveline came in.  

 

The woods enveloping the house were dense and dark. Somewhere deep within the twisted branches and grotesque trunks, the Amite River flowed through. Aveline gulped as she drove by; she was glad her duties didn’t require her to brave those woods. Aerial imaging would suffice for that. Her only duties were to the main house, although she’d also assess any other smaller structures on site if she had the time.

 

She parked her Jeep near the front door and unpacked her equipment, setting up a rudimentary base camp in the main atrium. It was late afternoon by the time she was finished, and after lunch, she grabbed her video camera and backpack.

 

“This is Aveline Duplechin coming to you live from Manor McCreepy number Two Eighty-five,” she declared unto the empty house as if reporting on site for Channel 10 News. Drawing a plan of execution from the blueprints provided, she moved through the house, documenting everything with the tactical sense of a Navy SEAL. The house was creepy and old. Ghost stories and rumors of hauntings never bothered her, however. She had assessed plenty of houses like this one and only had trouble with squatters.

 

Something caught her eye going up the main staircase as she finished the west wing, something quick and blurry. Fuck! A transient, great!, she thought. Please don’t let him be a raving maniac like the one at the Geddings Estate, she prayed silently, unholstering the concealed compact Taurus .380 ACP pistol.

 

“H-hello?” she called out, gun in one hand, video camera in the other as she quickly ascending the remaining stairs. The second floor foyer of the east wing was lifeless, and Aveline’s eyes darted around every nook for any sign of an intruder. A loud thud and the sound of glass shattering came from somewhere farther into the wing.

 

“Is anyone there?!” she demanded, clearing the first few rooms at an adjacent corridor. “I’m Aveline Duplechin with Buchanan Realties. You are trespassing, and I am armed. Come out, and there’ll be no trouble!” She found herself in a bedroom at the end of the corridor now.

 

She suddenly felt frigid, her breath visible, as if someone assaulted her with an arctic wind. A fog substantiated beside the old canopy bed. She blinked. Fog doesn’t have a face. She blinked again. It had quasi-morphed into something like human, staring at her. She stared back, not sure what to believe nor what action to take. This was definitely no fog. The apparition rushed at her with a strident wail. Aveline fired two shots into its center mass. Nothing. It continued wailing, disappearing into the wall behind her.

 

Aveline took the opportunity to escape, running back down the stairs until she was in the safety of her base camp near the front doors. The sun was setting, and she feared that she would not be safe for long. Regardless, she opted to stay the night as the nearest town was at least a forty-five minute drive through a starless and cloudy night. She sighed, clutching an old tire iron to her chest as she relunctantly settled into her sleeping bag.

 

The morning sun shining in her eyes caused Aveline to stir. She grinned when she realized she had passed the night unaccosted.  Breakfast and a few minor chores later, she was ready to take on the upstairs again. After all, her report was not complete, and she didn’t get paid for incomplete reports.

 

She advanced slowly, looking for signs of her mysterious interloper. The foyer was again empty, the silence intense. She rounded the corridors she had ventured into the previous night, camera recording this time for her report. She cleared the rooms one by one, remarking on size, state, and function for the camera.  

 

She again made her way to the bedroom where she had previously encountered this fog-creature. She bit her lip and steeled her nerves, stepping in. Light poured into the dusty old room, seeming to expel any darkness. She scanned the area, but saw nothing of her guest from last night.  Huffing, she began her remarks on the room.

 

“ Last guest bedroom, Corridor C, second floor of east wing.  Old oak bed still in great shape. Grand dresser needs a slight repair, but still good. Both need refinishing. Paint peeling in the south corner of the room by the bed. Easy tint to match for repaint. Two holes in wallpaper on wall opposite, need possible bullet extraction and recovering. Window panes in excellent condition, no cracks nor breaks. Gossamer curtains dingy. Can possibly restore. Call Marten to see —”

 

“You’re very pretty,” a voice calmly declared, cutting her off.

 

“Gah! Who’s there?” She spun on her heels, only to meet her own brown eyes in the reflection of the old full-length dressing mirror

 

A shadow in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She felt the ambient temperature drop, her breath frosty.  Goosebumps formed on her skin as she felt someone’s icy breath down her neck. A cold, firm hand grabbed her shoulder. Terrified, she turned to see a transparent young man staring back at her.

 

“You’re very pretty,” he said again. “Are you lost? You must be. No one comes here on purpose. Strange you haven’t left yet,” he looked at her ruefully. Trepidation subsided to pity. Clearly whoever this was, had no desire to harm her. She shut her camera off and packed it away in her backpack.

 

“Wh-who are you?” she asked softly into his sorrowful  stormy blue eyes. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was handsome, his mouth framed neatly in a full goatee. Even in this ghostly form, his eyes shined brightly.

 

“My name is Keagan, Keagan Foster. Please don’t run, miss. I’ve been alone for years and would love some company.”

 

She breathed in deeply, amazed at what she was about to say. “Let’s get back to my camp downstairs. More comfortable.”

He nodded and followed — floated almost— her down and back to the main atrium. She dropped her backpack by her other stuff and settled into her chair at her makeshift desk. Keagan smiled slightly as she turned to him.  
  
“I suppose I should introduce myself for starters,” she remarked, returning his smile. “I’ve never talked to a ghost before, so forgive me any shortcomings. I am Aveline Duplechin and I work for—”

 

“Buchanan Realties? I heard you last night, but I do love your name, as well as those soulful russet eyes of yours,” he coyly remarked. She turned and giggled at the thought of someone admiring any trait she possessed. She’d been teased frequently in school, but never let it keep her down.

  
  


“Tell me how you died, Keagan,” she stated, turning her chair to face him again.

 

“I don’t remember much. It was 1967, my T-bird broke down on the highway, and I started looking for help. I remember mostly getting lost and wandering through the woods. I remember a blow to the head, then darkness. I awoke to rain, it was pouring. I was so dazed, couldn’t seem to get my bearings. I felt so confused and so desperately lost.  I sought out shelter here because it was the first place I stumbled upon..”

 

“Do you remember even opening the gates or the doors?”

 

“No,” he said, his eyes lighting up with revelation.  “Do you think the blow to the cranium is what killed me?”

 

“Yes, actually I do. Do you remember seeing anything or anyone fleeing the scene?”

 

“No, just the thick trees and the dizzying rain. Besides darkness, and a frenzy of getting away.”

 

“Away from what?” she asked, blinking, twirling her finger in her hair.

  
  


He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just felt the overwhelming desire to flee. It’s unsettling to think about it,” he added, fidgeting where he leaned against her desk. “Enough about that, tell me more about yourself and what  you do.” She nodded, overturning a bucket next to her chair and motioning him to sit, even though she didn’t think ghosts got tired.

 

“For starters,” she began,” I was born in Alexandria in 1987. My whole family lives there, and there I  grew up. Mr. Buchanan was an old friend of my father, Percy Duplechin. He was very impressed with me and offered me this job pretty much as soon as I graduated from Northwestern University….”

 

She gave him her life story, everything from growing up in Alexandria to college and finally her adventures for Buchanan Realties. A few times, she caught him smiling at her while she talked. He never broke eye contact. Here she was droning on and on about her career,family, and other things and he acted like she was the most interesting thing in the world!  

 

When she had finished, she insisted he tell her about himself. He told her about his rearing in a small town outside Baton Rouge, getting a football scholarship, dropping out of college when he’d been hurt and could no longer play, all the different jobs he had, and finally what he was doing the day he died to end up on that fated stretch of lonesome highway.

 

The longer they talked, the less translucent he became. Hours had passed, and she swore with each tick of the clock he became more life-like and less ethereal. Color returned to his skin, ghostly pallor subsided to enhance handsome features, and his blue eyes sparkled even more that the ghostly haze had receded. Even his clothes started to look normal. He was clad in blue jeans, a solid black t-shirt, and a tan jacket lined with sherpa wool.

 

To Aveline, Keagan looked like he belonged on some grand outdoor mountain adventure, not stuck haunting this oversized hovel.  His arm was resting on the desk close by, so life-like. She stared intently, her interest piqued. He noticed was Aveline was staring at.   
  
“Go on, touch my arm. I can see the gears in your head working.”  She gently grabbed at his wrist and softly stroked a few inches along his forearm.

 

“Wow! You feel real! Not that you aren’t, I mean, but living! How are you doing that? What kind of ghost are you?” she gasped in excitement.

 

“A regular one? Tell me, where did you learn these ‘rules’ about ghosts? I, for one, can be as solid or as transparent as I like. Even invisible, haven’t really had too much need need to materialize in a while,” he added, dipping his head. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

 

“It’s not a hard thing to do, especially when I feel like this,” he declared, moving closer to her.

 

“Like what?” she queried, her gaze steady on him. She could see the intensity of his blue eyes, like a lion hunting prey.  She took a step back, only to realize she was against a wall.

 

“So alive!” he breathed out huskily, and in a flash, he was kissing her hard against the wall. His tongue clashed with hers as he pressed harder against her body. She gasped when she felt his erection pressing against her mound through their clothes. He jerked her up, her legs around his waist, tearing her blouse open and sucking greedily at an exposed nipple while pawing the other breast. Exhilarated, his hungry lips licked, sucked, and nibbled from the taut nipple up to her collarbone and along the delicious length of her neck.

 

Aveline whimpered and moaned as his frigid lips worked against her skin. His lips were cool, sending shocks to her core. She found each movement of his mouth refreshing like a walk in the spring rain. Icy elation met sexual heat as he pulled her underwear aside and sank two fingers into her.

 

“Keagan!” she gasped, his buried fingers making her squirm.

 

“I’m so sorry, Aveline! I don’t know what came over me!” he choked out, wanting to fade into the shadows again, but not wanting to leave her.

 

“No, don’t be. Please don’t go. I quite enjoyed that, it’s just been...awhile,” she exhaled. Unrolling her sleeping bag, she laid down, entreating him to join her on the floor. He slid his jacket off and pounced at her, nibbling her neck before seizing her mouth in a ravenous kiss, his right hand sliding down her thigh. She could again feel him, even through all the clothing. The thought of his cock penetrating where his fingers had been moments earlier was enough for her to soak her panties.

 

She tugged at his shirt and successfully yanked it off him. He stood up, slowly unfastening his jeans while piercing her with his eyes, which were steeled with hunger. He dropped his jeans and underwear on the floor, returning to kneel on the sleep bag in front of her. Aveline wasted no time, and unceremoniously stripped herself bare. They seemed entranced, staring at every curve and muscle on each other’s body. Keagan was the first to move, crawling close to feast again on her creamy breasts, only to be pulled away to meet her lips in a fiery kiss, their hands groping each other in a blinded frenzy.

 

Aveline settled on her back, legs spread. She was dripping wet, and Keagan could see her  nether lips glisten by the lantern light. She reached over to him, gently stroking his cock, making him suck in a breath. She nodded, signaling what she wanted. He poised himself at her entrance, staring into her eyes as he plunged himself fully inside. They both gasped, moaning. She was incredibly tight and he was nice and thick. He found her neck again, nibbling on it as he pistoned himself. She writhed under him, hooking her legs around his waist as he sped up. The pleasure was too much. They both came in a rapturous moaning, she felt his release explode inside her and her sleeping bag was now drenched from the both of them. He smiled, stroking her chestnut hair and again kissing her as he withdrew himself.

 

Exhausted from the lovemaking, Aveline fell fast asleep. She awoke to Keagan holding her and playing with her hair. She could tell it was late in the morning from the way sunlight spilled in the atrium.

 

“I thought you’d poof away by now,” she said sleepily as she rolled over to face him.

 

“Best night of my afterlife,” he chuckled. “So what now? You turn your report and I never see you again? Some grand ass buys the house and I get stuck with them for the next fifty years?” he queried.

 

“No, not at all. I’ve been thinking, dreaming really. I turn in my report, but ask Mr. Buchanan for more time. I’ll make up something.”

 

“You could buy the house yourself. I’m sure they won’t charge extra for me.”

 

“Keagan, I’d love that. I am really quite enthralled with you, but we both know you need peace. You need to cross over. I don’t want to lose you, but we both know you need to pass on.”

 

He looked sad again, and she couldn’t stand that look. She couldn’t stand that he was confined to the estate grounds. Most of all, she couldn’t stand that they couldn’t be together. He squeezed her hand.

 

“You’re absolutely right. It breaks my heart, Aveline. I just found such joy too, but you’re right.”

 

“We’re going to find your body. It’s somewhere in those woods, it has to be. We’re going to figure out what happened to you, just you and I. I’ll give you a nice burial and I’ll see you off properly,” she explained, holding on to him.  

 

“Thank you. And at least, I get a little more precious time with you. You’re my heaven until I get to go to the real one,” he smiled softly.

  
  
  



End file.
